Wasted Years
by SSK Productions
Summary: On his deathbed, Daniel recalls the chance he never took with Sam. Warning, character deaths.


**Rating:** PG-13 (shouldn't go higher, maybe lower at times)

**Word Count: 1,537**

**Disclaimer: **One half of SSK Productions is owned by pygmies & debt collectors. The other half is owned by her dogs. Logically, then, they own nothing.

**Summary: **On his deathbed, Daniel recalls the chance he never took with Sam.

**Pairings: **Sam/Daniel

**Author's Note:** First, it should be said that we are evil. This has obviously not been emphasized enough in the past. Two, that we are insane. That has also not been emphasized enough. Third, we blame this ficlet entirely on our insanity and this vid we were crazy enough to make (both of which can be found on our livejournal since fanfiction is evil and eats links).

* * *

**Wasted Years**

He drifted through time and memory with fluidic motion, one moment, one memory carrying him to the next. It was the game life played, showing him all the times he had spent with her, all of the times he could have—all the times he _should_ have—said something.

_His tongue tripped over itself. He couldn't get the words out. It was like he was physically incapable of saying it, but he knew that wasn't true. He also knew that Sam had just told him that things with Jack were over for good and all, and what had he said? Not, "so now I can tell you how I feel, right?" or even a less articulate thought like "that sucks." He said, of all the stupid things, "I'm sorry."_

She believed in him. Even when he'd lost his way, lost his focus, she was there, keeping him going. she never gave up on him, never doubted him, even when he hurt her, tried to push her away, she had still reached out and tried to bring him back to the man he was, the man he could be, the man he wanted to be... for her.

She could have been there, lovely as ever even though he had aged so badly. She would have been at his side, if he'd only let her, if he'd only told her... If he'd told her when there was still time. He breathed in deeply, hearing the soft beeps of the monitors that were his constant companions, but there was another sound as well. Crying. Opening his eyes, he saw her. Aged but beautiful, she wept over him. He reached for her, holding her hand in his wrinkled ones. Not saying a word.

He felt his eyes fluttering closed, too tired to keep them open. He fought the fatigue, but in the end it was easier to lose.

_She had been there, at his side, the last time, too. The last time he had died. He had sent he sadness crease her face, the sorrow slip down her cheeks in tears. Even death hadn't stopped her. She had fought for him. She had never given up._

_While he lingers, she was gone too quickly. She was hurt, and he did his best, he gave her comfort, but the warmth of the blanket was hollow, and it couldn't keep her alive. He couldn't save her. He needed her, needed her so much, and he never wanted to believe that she could go. They would never leave each other. They had an unspoken promise. But then she was hit, and she was gone... Just gone. So fast. Slow and yet so fast._

_And it seemed like the next moment he was standing there, watching as everyone he knew put flowers on her casket. Each blossom a truth he had never spoken, a word he had never said to her. And now it was too late. He had wasted all of the moments with her, never saying what needed to be said._

He saw himself, sitting there, where she had sat holding his hand. Once again young, so naïve. If only he'd known that he'd squandered away all those years, being with her, but not being with her.

"You should have told her," he didn't recognize his own voice, so gruff and low. So old sounding.

"Who should I have told? What should I have told her?"

He closed his eyes, feeling the fatigue of saying so much weigh on him. "You already know."

_They always thought of him as something greater than he was. Bigger. Larger than life. This myth had grown in his years at the SGC, and he'd been embarrassed by it, ashamed because he would never be as great as they thought he was, and she was one of the ones that looked at him like he was something better, someone better. Wiser, smarter... He was just a man. A small, insignificant man who couldn't even say the words that had mattered most. His life had passed him by, and he'd been so afraid of not being great, not living up to their expectations, that he hadn't lived at all. If he'd just tried, just done his best... It would have been enough. Especially for her. She had asked so little of him._

He was slipping away. He had died enough times to know when it was close. He grasped for something, anything. He reached out for her.

He felt her lips press against his forehead. She was there, with him again. This time age hadn't touched her, had left her just the way he remembered. She held his hand, just as she'd held his hand the first time he had died.

Then she whispered two words in his ear.

"I know."

_He could remember her words, her endless efforts to comfort him, and he had done the same for her. He wondered now how much those three words would have comforted her, how much difference they would have made._

_There wasn't enough to drown it all away. He tried, he really did, and it shouldn't take that much because he wasn't good at holding his liquor, but no matter how much there was or what he did, the pain didn't stop, didn't go away. He couldn't stop remembering. He saw the grave every time he closed his eyes, saw the end, knew it would never be the same again, knew he could never get her back, knew she was gone, and there was nothing that made it better. He had gone through this pain once, and he'd thought it would kill him. Why wasn't he already gone? He couldn't do this. Not again. No purpose, no last message could keep him living now. She was gone, and with her, she took hope._

_He had tried, but the simple everyday things weren't the same without her. Every moment, every single breath was heartache and anguish. It was empty…none of it had any meaning without her. And the only work that was left unfinished was what he'd never said._

He felt pressure, but no pain. Vaguely, he heard the ever present monitor make an unusual sound, but he didn't dwell on it. He saw them, the two of them standing at the foot of his bed. He saw himself look at her, but not understand.

_He should have told her. All that talking, all those years, and he didn't say the one thing that mattered most._

She looked at him, and he tried, tried to explain, tried to get the words out, to justify what he'd done, but even her hallucination disapproved. He still couldn't tell her, and she wasn't here to hear the words, and he knew that, and she knew that even if she was just in his head, and it wasn't fair because she would never know.

_He remembered her touch, what it felt like to be in her embrace. How he would have sacrificed everything to stay there with her._

"I took too long," he whispered.

_She tried to put on a brave face, tried to downplay the pain. But he could tell. He could see the blood staining her uniform, pooling underneath her. _

"I didn't…I didn't let her finish," his voice still soft.

_She wanted to say something, wanted to tell him something. But he was afraid. Afraid that if she told him that she would give up. And he couldn't let her give up. Not this time. Not after all of the times she hadn't given up on him._

He swallowed, his mouth dry. "I didn't…" the words trailed off, the thought finished in his mind. _I didn't do her memory justice._

"I didn't let her finish," he repeated slowly.

_She hadn't spoken then, when he'd carried her through the gate. The pain had been too much for her, even her for her brave face and endless strength. _

"How will I know?" his younger self spoke, breaking the silence of his thoughts.

_There was nothing more they could do. She had been too far gone. He remembered seeing the monitor, seeing the lines that were her life, go flat._

He struggled to keep his eyes open. "Life is too short."

This time she was not here to give him strength. This time she stood there, next to him and his younger self as he closed his eyes. He had told all he needed to tell now. Now it was time for sleep.

* * *

He sees her smile before he steps out from behind the marines. This is his universe. He went back to the right one. The Goa'uld were not attacking Earth, this is not the future. This is now. He is home.

Returning her smile, he wraps his arms around her. It had never felt so right before. And the words of the future self he had seen return to him in that moment. _You already know._

And with her in his arms, the biggest smile on his face, he does exactly what he's been told. He doesn't wait. He tells her. And as she shifts in his arms, he hears her say it back.

And he knows that there will be no wasted years.


End file.
